Thicker than Blood (12 page)

Yanking on my chains, Alex shook his head.
“Haven’t found her yet. Only found you because you were
screaming.”

“Bi-bitten.” I sobbed, trying to move my
right arm to show him.

There was a momentary pause as Alex’s eyes
grew wide with alarm, and then he ripped off the remaining shreds
of my sleeve and frantically inspected my skin.

Dropping to his knees, not caring what he was
kneeling in, he rocked back on his heels and smiled at me. “Not
bitten,” he whispered.

Not bitten.
Those two words were like fuel to my
dwindling fire. My waning energy erupted, my worries for myself
instantly gone, replaced with nothing but concern for
Evelyn.

After dislodging my foot from the skull of
the infected and helping me to my feet, Alex kept one arm looped
around my waist, holding me up as he unchained me from the altar.
It took several attempts, but he finally found the right key and
removed my shackles. I winced at the sight of my bloodied and
mangled wrists, but then quickly forgot about them.

“Evelyn,” I whispered frantically. “We need
to find her.”

Alex, his back to me now, was bent down next
to the body he’d dragged into the room. Roughly rifling through the
man’s clothing, he was pocketing whatever he could find.

Getting to his feet, he thrust a small blade
at me and I readily took it, grateful for it. The smooth handle was
hot in my cold hand, steady and sure against my shaky resolve. I
could do this if I had to. It wasn’t as if I was any stranger to
using a knife on someone, even if that person had been sleeping. My
apprehension stemmed from the fear of retaliation. I wasn’t a
fighter, with very little physical strength. If a full-grown man
came at me…

Gritting my teeth, I shut down that line
of thinking. I would do what I had to do. I would be strong and
fight, if need be. I’d be like Evelyn.

“Stay behind me,” Alex said, his voice a
hushed whisper. “If anything happens to me, you run. Understand?
Just run.”

I managed to bob my head up and down, my
relief at finding out I hadn’t been bitten short lived. We still
had to get out of here…wherever we were. The last thing I
remembered was being torn away from Evelyn, and then I’d woken up
here, shackled and alone, only to have an infected shoved into the
room with me.

“What is this place?” I asked as we crept
quietly toward the door. “Where are we?”

With one hand on the knob, the other
clutching a handgun, Alex turned his head just enough to look at
me. In the bouncing light that gave his already shadowed features a
menacing glower, he swallowed audibly.

“Hell,” he replied darkly. “Just another
version of hell.” His expression and his words were a window to his
soul, and for the first time since I’d known Alex, he seemed
honestly afraid.

Instinctively, I reached out, placing my
palm on the small of his back and fisting the material of his
shirt. It was a reassuring gesture, both for him and for myself.
His eyes shut, just for a
second, but in that moment I saw his features relax. The
worry seeped from him, and when they reopened, he was the Alex I
knew once again.

Hard. Determined. And ready to fight his way
out of hell.

Again.

Evelyn

“You’re going to regret that, friend.”

Somehow I’d backed myself into a corner, the
heavyset man blocking any chance of escape I might have had. At
least he was no longer smiling. In fact, he looked furious, so much
so that his saggy jowls were quivering with rage.

Glancing behind him, toward where his
companion lay unmoving, and hopefully, not breathing, he turned to
back to me, his upper lip rising in a crude snarl. “The Lord will
not be pleased.”

Crouching lower, I backed even farther
away, my back now pressed against the cool, damp wall. I’d been
lucky with the younger one. Leisel’s screaming had spurred me on
and I’d struck out wildly, gripping hold and ripping out his hair,
my nails digging into his eyes, but it had been his own weapon that
had been my saving grace—a long-handled police baton that had been
tucked into his belt. Taking hold of it, I’d swung as hard as I
could, feeling the crack against the man’s skull, the force of the
impact radiating down the baton and into my arm. Then I’d taken off
running down the hall, in the wrong direction, no less, only to
find myself boxed in.

Now the other man was advancing on me, a
shotgun in his hands, and I knew there was no way out of this. You
didn’t bring a metal club to a gunfight and expect to make it out
alive.

Tears, unexpected and unwelcome, formed
behind my eyes, startling me as one by one they slid down my
cheeks. Trying to staunch my emotions, I took a deep breath, and
ended up whimpering instead. I was suddenly furious, hating myself
for allowing this man, this lunatic, to see my weakness. Hating
that it was this stranger who was the first to see my tears after
so many years of containing them. Not Shawn, not Jami, not Leisel,
but this vile, hateful, murderous man who used God as an excuse to
hurt others.

And that was where I found it, my strength.
In the knowledge that I was better than this man, than these
people. That even if I were to die here today, I would die with the
knowledge that I was a survivor, a true fighter, who didn’t resort
to violence, who hadn’t lost my mind just because the world as we’d
known it had ended.

Gritting my teeth, I unfolded from my
crouch and stood to my full height, ready to meet my fate head-on.
So focused was I on my quickly approaching death, I nearly screamed
when Alex was suddenly there, running up behind the man with his
own gun drawn. Alex jumped up into the air, and as he came crashing
down, slammed the butt of his pistol into the back of the man’s
head.

The shotgun fell first, falling free from the
man’s hands as his eyes went wide. The man himself fell next,
slumping into a heap on the floor. But Alex didn’t stop there. He
leaped on top of the man’s lifeless form, using his gun to hit him
again and again, over and over until blood sprayed from several
gaping wounds in the man’s head.

“Stop!” Leisel screamed, running up from
behind. “Alex! Stop!”

She was alive. She was alive and Alex was
alive, and even more amazing, so was I. My gaze flickered between
Leisel and Alex and the bloodied body on the floor, and then back
to Leisel.

She was alive.

Grunting, Alex climbed off the body, using
his coat sleeve to wipe away the blood that had spattered across
his face. He then tucked his pistol into his waistband and reached
down to retrieve the man’s shotgun.

“We need to go,” Leisel whispered.

I knew we needed to go, but I couldn’t seem
to stop staring at her and move my feet. I’d been convinced she was
dead, that fear driven home when I could no longer hear her
screaming. Yet she wasn’t, she was here, and I still couldn’t quite
believe that she was real, that she was still alive.

“Lei,” I choked out, reaching for her, my
chin trembling. “You’re alive.”

Her face crumpled at the sound of my broken
words and then she rushed forward, nearly tripping over the mangled
body at our feet as she fell into my waiting arms. Wrapping my arms
around her, feeling her warmth and her trembling, feeling the
dampness of her tears on my face, only served to reinforce the fact
that she was truly alive, and I wasn’t dreaming or imagining that
she was here. I breathed out a sigh of relief and slumped against
her.

“We need to go,” Alex muttered. “Now.”

He was already moving, heading down the hall,
and Leisel and I hurried to catch up. We followed closely behind
him, me still clutching my baton in one hand and Leisel’s hand in
the other.

“This place is huge,” I whispered when we
breached a third set of stairs. “And creepy as hell.”

Wherever we were now, I could hear singing,
the same hymn being belted out by the same joyful voices, the sound
of it all the more chilling now that I knew what was happening
here. In the Lord’s name, no less.

“You ready for this?” Alex asked when we
reached a large wooden door, the singing coming from just beyond
it.

Nodding, I showed him my weapon, and he
rewarded me with what might have been a smile. With Alex, whose
smiles and grimaces looked nearly identical, the possibilities were
endless.

Tightening my grip on Leisel’s hand, I gave
her a hard yet gentle glance, trying to will my strength and
reassurance into her. She looked petrified, yet determined, and it
was then that I noticed a small blade clenched in her fist. Knowing
that she had some way to defend herself if we got separated was a
comforting thought.

Raising my baton, I looked at Alex and
nodded. “Ready,” I whispered.

As he took hold of the handle, I had a moment
of panic at the thought that it might be locked, that we might have
to bust our way back into the bowels of the church. If that were
the case, we’d lose the element of surprise, no longer have the
upper hand.

But my fears were baseless. As the door
clicked open and the room we were standing in flooded with light,
the three of us moved forward and into the nave of the
church.

The room was exactly the same as when I’d
been forcefully dragged through it. There were still people lining
the pews, the choirs was still situated on the chancel, and the
minister, Mr. Peter—apart from his swollen lip—was still smiling,
still singing his heart out with his arms raised toward the sky in
worship.

“SHUT THE FUCK UP!” Alex bellowed, startling
everyone in the room, including Leisel and me.

The singing abruptly ended. A heartbeat of
silence followed before a chorus of gasps and murmuring finally
rippled through the pews as the parishioners watched us creep
slowly into view. Only Mr. Michael was brave enough to stand,
though his hands were trembling, giving away his fear and causing
his gun to quiver in his grasp.

Alex smiled at the armed man, a menacing show
of teeth. “Put it down, or your man over there”—he gestured with
his gun toward Mr. Peter—“is going to eat a bullet.”

With a quick nod, Mr. Peter signaled for Mr.
Michael to do as Alex asked. Mr. Michael did, gently setting his
weapon down by his feet before sitting down again.

Mr. Peter, no longer smiling, his eyes wide
as he looked the three of us over, opened his mouth to speak.

“Don’t say anything, asshole,” Alex gritted
out, cutting off whatever the man was about to say. “Get your
people and go stand over there.” He pointed to the far aisle of the
nave, the one directly opposite of where we stood.

The church went silent, the choir and the
parishioners all looking at Mr. Peter in question. Sheep, that was
what they reminded me of. Unable to think for themselves, to eat,
sleep, or breathe without some sort of direction.

“Stay here,” Alex muttered before he stalked
forward. With his shotgun raised, the barrel fixed on the center of
Mr. Peter’s chest, Alex approached him slowly.

“You would kill a man of God?” Mr. Peter
asked in shocked disbelief as he eyed the gun in Alex’s hand. “You
would murder innocent church folk for simply spreading the word of
the Lord?”

Reaching him, Alex pressed the barrel of the
gun against his chest. “Tell them to move,” he growled. “Or I will
kill you.”

The two men stared at each other, Alex’s eyes
full of hard determination, and Mr. Peter’s full of hatred. Pure,
unadulterated hatred glowered beneath the facade of kindness.

“Do what he says,” Mr. Peter said, lifting
his chin obstinately. “Get up and move to the east side, and let
these sinners pass. The devil has a different path for them.”

Another murmur rippled through the pews as
people glanced back and forth at one another, some looking fearful,
others looking angry, until eventually everyone was on their feet
and shuffling slowly across the room.

“Arms up!” Alex shouted, glaring toward the
gathered crowd. “All of you.”

Again, Mr. Peter nodded, signaling for them
to do as Alex asked. Once their arms were raised and Alex noted
that their hands were devoid of weapons, he reached for Mr. Peter.
Taking hold of his neck, Alex shoved him forward. Pressing his gun
into the man’s back, he kept his grip on his neck and urged him to
begin walking.

Gripping Leisel’s hand, I pulled her forward
into the center aisle and followed closely behind Alex, only
stopping to reach down and scoop up Mr. Michael’s fallen shotgun.
We continued down the aisle quickly as I kept a close watch on the
crowd to my right, looking for any sign of movement, ready to run
if someone pulled a weapon.

“You’re leaving us unarmed, you know,” Mr.
Peter said, his tone suddenly oddly friendly. “We’ll have no way to
protect ourselves against the risen.”

Alex laughed, a cold and cruel sound. “You
tried to kill us, and you think I care what happens to you?” He
barked out another angry semblance of a laugh, and pressed his gun
harder into Mr. Peter’s back.

When we reached the set of double doors at
the entrance, Alex looked at me and I hurried forward, trying the
handles and finding them locked.

“Where’s the key?” Alex growled, shaking Mr.
Peter.

“It’s here!” a voice called out, and an
elderly man stepped forward from the crowd. Graying and wrinkled,
he wore a pair of tattered suspenders and a golfing cap. He
reminded me of a grandfatherly type, a great uncle, or an elderly
neighbor, someone who looked harmless, kind and caring even.
Holding up a set of keys for us to see, he shook them. “I’ve got
them.”

Alex gestured for the man to join us and when
he did, still keeping his grip on Mr. Peter’s neck, Alex used his
shotgun to shove the old man toward the doors. “Open them,” he
demanded.